


Crash and Burn

by OtherCat



Series: Atlantis 2505 [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-21
Updated: 2008-06-21
Packaged: 2017-10-07 14:58:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtherCat/pseuds/OtherCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pastiche of post-nuke survivalist novels of the eighties written for Harlequin SGA. "It's been five years since John Sheppard and his small band of warriors stumbled onto the first stargate, and the mysterious floating sea-city of Atlantis..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crash and Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to harlequin sga and my livejournal in 2005-2007. This piece of insanity is not a crossover, but a pastiche of early eighties men's adventures like "Outrider" by Richard Harding and (the still on going) Deathlands series by James Axler (pseudonym). Sadly, actual men's adventures lack the h/c and slash smut that I've included herein, more's the pity. Done as if it were the teaser/promotional chapter you find at the backs of some books.

_It's been five years since John Sheppard and his small band of warriors stumbled onto the first stargate, and the mysterious floating sea-city of Atlantis. Since then, they have been fighting to restore order in a world that descended into chaos five hundred years ago in the wake of World War Three._

_In five years John has made as many allies as he has enemies, and the worst of them was the Genii warlord, Kolya, whose defeat has created a power vaccuum that John and his people would like to avoid being swept into as they escape with Atlantean scientists held captive by the sadistic warlord. One of the scientists is Rodney McKay, the brilliant brother of Jeannie--a friend and team member that John had come to rely on, until her death at the hands of the Wraith. Even if Rodney wasn't the man John had been sent to rescue, he'd be obligated by Jeannie's memory to protect him...now if he could just convince Rodney of that. _

_ **New in October from Pegasus books, Atlantis 2505: Crash and Burn!** _

**ONE**

You could see the tower of billowing black smoke, and green tinged flame for miles. Kolya's fortress was still burning. With any luck, so was the Genii bastard's corpse. After five years of constant fighting with the Genii warlord and his enforcers, they'd finally gained some ground. Nothing was certain though, especially with Kolya. Too many times John thought they'd finally gotten the bastard, only to have him pop up again, sliding in like the guy in a mask he remembered from his grampa's stories. The last few minutes of the firefight that led up to the explosion was a blur of screaming and gunfire. John's last clear memory had been the aftermath, when Teyla had taken the gun from his hands. She and Ronon had half carried, half dragged him back to Puddlejumper one.

Once in the transport, John bore Teyla's ass-ripping for the way he'd lost it in the battle in dazed silence while Doc Beckett patched him up and shot him full of sedatives and painkillers. The only thing that penetrated the haze was the voice of one of the two scientists they were able to rescue from the Genii--Rodney McKay. He was talking to Doctor Carter, alternately begging and cursing her, voice too low for John to really make out the words. When his voice _was_ audible, it was to damn the stupidity of the Genii in specific and all non-Atlanteans in general. John tore his eyes away from what had to be the most beautiful and fucking _satisfying_ fire ever, and lay back in the bunk to get a better look at Jeannie's brother.

John had never met him before today. The picture Jeannie had painted of him had been of a fussy, arrogant brain, stubborn and not very brave--of course Jeannie had used bigger words, but that's what it pretty much boiled down to. The _actual_ pictures Jeannie had of him stashed in her locker was of a soft faced boy with her eyes, a stocky older boy standing next to a sign that read "Science Fair" and of a young man in a white lab coat accepting some sort of rolled up piece of paper from Elizabeth Weir Elder. Jeannie had seemed to be both proud of and exasperated by her brother, who apparently hadn't approved of his sister "wasting her brains" in the Atlantean sec patrol.

The only impression he'd gotten during the rescue was a wide-eyed, bruised face distorted by fear, a blocky body that stank of weeks of filth. The stink was still there, and so were the bruises, and the fear, but what was gone now was the blank, shocky look of someone who had seen more than his mind was capable of dealing with.

The shockiness was gone now, replaced by manic energy that seemed more furious than hysterical--Rodney was a man who spoke with his entire body, sharp angry gestures, and John had a feeling that if there were more room in the transport, Rodney would be damn near walking holes into the floor. The mouthing off was going to get him into a world of hurt though, if the look on Bates' face was any indication.

John decided to intervene. Dr. Elizabeth Weir Younger wouldn't like it if one of the scientists they'd been sent to rescue was strangled by the rescue party. John fished around, and found one of his boots, which he slammed hard into the side of the transport. The sound made McKay jump, and also shut him up long enough for John to shout "Shut the hell up cocksucker! The non-Atlanteans saved your worthless fudgepacking _ass_." McKay flinched and folded up onto Dr. Carter's bunk like he'd been kicked in the balls. Doc Beckett glared at John, and Teyla was frowning at him, but Bates and the others looked satisfied, and unlikely to kill Doctor McKay in his sleep, which is what John was going for. Once there was quiet, John started making arrangements for who would sleep where.

Teyla, the two Atlantean sec patrolmen that had come on the rescue mission, Sora and Drs. Beckett and Carter ended up in Puddlejumper two where Dr. Becket could take care of Carter, who'd been shot during the firefight. John, Bates, Ronon, Zelenka and Dr. McKay ended up in Puddlejumper one. Zelenka and McKay were apparently friends of a sort--the two Atlanteans retreated to the back of the transports and immediately started arguing with each other. John listened in, while keeping an eye on Ronon and Bates who were talking up front, Bates driving while Ronon rode shot gun.

Dr. McKay twitched in his sleep and whimpered. Slow motion struggling with something that wasn't there, and his breathing was harsh and uneven. For all his blocky size, he seemed small and defenseless to John, who couldn't help the impulse to move from his bunk to the doctor's. He squatted down, and gently brushed his fingers over slightly damp, sweaty hair. Another whimper, but John thought McKay moved into the slight touch, like a cat wanting to be petted.

McKay wasn't a _handsome_ man, and what have might have been at least a _strong_ face was stretchy and shiny along the jawline from fat lost during his captivity--but the arms were strong, and the hands were nearly as clever and deft as Zelenka's.

John remembered McKay helping the mechanic earlier that day. They'd been cleaning the guns and taking apart broken equipment for spare parts. Rodney had been arguing and bitching, true, but also listening, even grudgingly admitting that Zelenka was probably right about some obscure point John didn't understand. Something to do with the stargates, John thought. John also remembered that McKay had a nice ass, and the bare patches revealed as the man's shirt had rode up had been unexpectedly tantalizing.

McKay twitched again, and moaned, curling into a tighter ball as his breath hitched with silent sobs--John didn't even think about it, sliding carefully into the bunk like he might have for Ronon, or the way Teyla might have done for Zelenka or even Bates. He wasn't sure this was something the Atlanteans did, though he'd done it for Jeannie, it wasn't even something most _mainlanders _did, it was just something peculiar to John and the mercs he thought of as "his." Him and Bates and Zelenka and Ronon and Teyla--no one had their own bunks on the transports, and more often than not, they didn't sleep alone. John fitted himself around the curves of McKay, and wrapped an arm and a leg around him. Another moan, and Rodney's back was pushed up against his chest. "Sam," Rodney mumbled. "Oh god, please I'm sorry--" Rodney moved, and then gasped, tensing even more as he awoke. "What? Who? What are you doing? Why?"

"You were twitching. John. Came to ease you," John whispered in McKay's ear. "Not gonna have you set off Bates, since Ronon's driving."

"I don't--Bates?" Rodney said. "Define 'easing' please." He squirmed, but didn't fight--didn't relax either.

John could almost feel Rodney's heart jack rabbiting under his hand. He didn't answer in words, just let his hand slide down between Rodney's legs. "Oh, I see, molesting the traumatized victim of a sadistic warlord," Rodney said, sounding oddly calm despite the tension he was still radiating. "I'm sure _that_ won't result in any neuroses--that means 'drive me bug fuck' by the way--to what do I owe the honor?"

John nuzzled the back of Rodney's neck, and pressed in even closer, which made Rodney tremble like a leaf, but again, he didn't struggle or protest. "Can't go crazier that you are, McKay," he muttered against pale, surprisingly soft skin. "And, I might not be able to spell it, but I fuckin' _know_ what "neurosis" means."

"My apologies, you know what it means, now why are you inducing it?"

"Told you, might set Bates off, and Bates only lets Ronon or maybe Teyla do this with him," John said, moving his hand up to Rodney's hip. "Not hurting you or anything?"

"Bates?" Rodney's voice was a strangled whisper.

"Has nightmares--especially if someone else is too." John allowed himself a smirk. "Not exactly a sacrifice here, though. You're warm. Comfortable."

"You called me--" John almost felt Rodney's flush of shame and anger. "A _cocksucker_, and here you are--" Another squirm. "Molesting me."

"It got you to shut the hell up, didn't it?" John murmured, and his hand rubbed its way up Rodney's arm, soothing away the tension. He did the same for Rodney's neck when he reached that, and felt Rodney melt a bit. "Jeannie always said you had no sense."

"Don't talk about Jeannie," Rodney retorted.

"She was crew," John said. "I stick by my people, and I have as much of a right to talk about her as you."

"You _killed_ her. We might have been able to save her if you'd--" Rodney shuddered, voice choked up and thick.

"It was what she wanted. She'd have done it herself, if she could have, you weren't there, and I was--triage," John said. She'd been too hurt to move, and Halling their medic--witch doctor, Rodney probably would have said--hadn't had the ability to save her.

"If this is your idea of 'easing' I'm surprised your crew hasn't blown their brains out," Rodney muttered waspishly and squirmed some more--then whimpered when John pressed close, rubbing against Rodney. "Oh god I can feel your--you're hard."

Anyone else, Ronon or even Teyla, John would have said _hard for you_\--Teyla would have laughed at him and kissed him to shut him up, Ronon would have growled and pushed him down and made him scream. For Rodney, John said, "brilliant observation doctor, any other perfectly obvious statements you want to make?" Before Rodney could think of anything to say, John nuzzled at Rodney's throat and sucked over a pulse point. He rubbed his leg over Rodney, and tugged at the fly of his pants, and slid his hand inside. Rodney's cock was half hard, and he whimpered when John closed his hand around it. "Move your hips Rodney," John said. Rodney started say something, but it wasn't a "no" not the way Rodney's cock was hardening in John's hand. "Move 'em."

"Oh god." Rodney _moved_, slight little movements at first, because he was still badly bruised. His eyes were shut tight, and in the dim light, John could see that Rodney was flushing with a combination of embarrassment and slow boiling lust. John could feel Rodney's pulse racing along, and the little noises the scientist was making were an incredible turn on, as was Rodney's mouth, half open and tempting. While Rodney's hips moved, John rubbed off against Rodney's back side, which made them both groan at the friction. "I don't believe this," he whispered, even as his hips moved. "Is this payment, payback?"

John firmed his grip and started to stroke, slow and easy, and just a little out of time with Rodney's thrusts. "You're the one getting jerked off, doctor, you tell me."

"I-I can't think, and for me that's--please don't stop doing that--something," Rodney said between those soft, interesting noises that weren't quite moans or whimpers. "I'm dreaming this aren't I? I'm having a wet dream."

"You dream about me?" John murmured in Rodney's ear, then trailed wet, sucking kisses down his jaw, toward a soft hollow that made Rodney try to arch in and pull back at the same time. The sound the scientist made then was more like a shout--and if Rodney's moans hadn't woken Bates up, the shout did. Bates was up on one elbow, watching--and John thanked all of Teyla's Ancestors that Rodney was entirely oblivious to the other man's leer.

"Would it matter if I did?" Rodney asked breathlessly. "This is just--I don't even know what this is."

"Me helping you sleep," John said, and tried not to laugh as Rodney mumbled something about hot chocolate and a sedative. "This is as good as chocolate," John said, and nuzzled at that the hot spot he'd discovered--Rodney moaned.

"Nothing is a good as--" Rodney arched, thrusting hard into John's fist as he came with a shout, then went boneless, gasping and shaking a little. John wiped off his hand and settled Rodney on the bunk so that his back was to Bates, head pillowed on John's shoulder. John stroked Rodney's hair and back, silently willing Bates to keep his goddamn mouth shut. Fortunately Bates took the hint and slipped out of his bunk, heading for the shot gun seat of the transport. The unfortunate side was that Rodney heard him get up. "Wha?" Rodney asked, dazed. "I woke him up?"

"He needed to anyway, it's almost his turn to drive," John said soothingly.

"He heard? Oh my god, I had sex and he was watching, wasn't he? Oh my god, I'm going to be seeing the psychs for the rest of my life," Rodney said.

"No you're not," John said, and kept stroking Rodney's hair. "You're fine."

"I'm not, I'm traumatized," Rodney said, and for lack of a better term snuggled against John, a little puppy-wiggle that left a glowing sort of feeling in the pit of John's stomach. "You called me filthy names, molested me and--" whatever else Rodney said was lost in a sleepy mutter as he drifted off.

* * *

John woke up hot and sweaty the next morning, a slight breeze coming from the open transport hatch. Rodney was a warm weight draped over his body, snoring softly, face soft and calm in sleep. He could hear Teyla singing, Bates voice coming in almost shyly on the choruses. Breakfast was cooking --meat and griddle cakes and soda bread being baked in the dutch oven. Teyla had apparently recieved the all clear from her "second sight" and wanted everyone to have a "proper" breakfast before another long day of travel, instead of the usual rations packet and cup of strong tea. John was hungry, but not quite willing to disturb the sleeping scientist, so he stroked Rodney's hair, and hoped he'd be able to coax the man into reciprocating the easing he'd done the night before.

Rodney hummed and shifted, sniffing in a deep breath as he woke up and became aware of breakfast--but then he became aware of John, and went still. "Oh," he said, very softly, and looked up at John, uncertain, and a little wary. "Do you want me to--" Rodney faltered, glancing down toward the front of John's pants. "I mean I-I've done it before, I'm not a--" Rodney, still blushing went from looking at John's crotch to looking toward the open hatch, and somehow managed to flush even more.

John kissed Rodney, which seemed to startle him, his eyes flew open, and he said "Mmph!" still trying to talk around the kiss, which made John laugh. "I'll bring you breakfast," John said, untangling himself from Rodney and the bunk.

He headed out into the bright sunlight, heading straight for the camp stove. The meat turned out to be four rabbits--John hoped it was four rabbits, because it looked like there were a pair too many hind legs. The Atlanteans were eating griddlecakes and breakfast packets, but not the meat. John wasn't offended--more for him. Teyla handed him a cup of tea. "Good morning," Teyla said. "Dr. Carter slept well last night, how was Dr. McKay?"

Bates snickered, and flipped griddle cakes. John gave him a narrow look, and sipped tea. "Nightmares, but I settled him down." Another snicker. Out of the corner of his eye, John could see Dr. Beckett approaching, looking angry. He gave Bates another look, and turned toward the doctor. "Morning Dr. Beckett."

"I'd like to have a word with you, Major," the doctor said. "Privately."

"John."

"Excuse me?" Dr. Beckett blinked, looking confused for a split second.

"I'm not in your sec patrol, my team isn't really in the chain of command. I'm a major because Dr. Weir says I am." John finished off the tea, and headed away from the campfire and his team. "What did you want to talk about?"

Carson took a deep breath, then let it out. "What do you think you're doing John?"

"Multiple choice? Eating breakfast."

"With Dr. McKay. What are you doing with ?"

"Again with the multiple choice." John headed back over to the fire, and grabbed a tray from the bin and started loading up. Two cups of the tea, plate of griddlecakes, some of the meat, soda bread, strawberry jam and butter and honey.

Carson followed along at John's elbow. "Don't you realize who he is? Do you have any idea how valuable he is to the cause?"

"He's Jeannie's brother, he's a brain, he was having nightmares, so I settled him down," John said patiently.

"We all have nightmares John, but they don't interfere with his work. You will."

John tried very hard not to snap at the doctor. "Let me see, because I forget, did we pull you out of the Genii stronghold, or doctors McKay and Carter?" John asked sarcastically. "McKay's nightmare had a more recent cause."

Carson however, persisted. "I appreciate that you are willing to give the man some comfort, god knows we all need some, but wake him up and talk to him, get him some coffee, be friendly. He's got enough to deal with without you climbing into bed with him and having sex with him." The last was said in a tone of exasperated patience, a 'you just don't understand so I'll explain in small words' sort of voice.

John stared. "Some things, you can't talk about doctor."

"He never stopped talking," Bates muttered.

"Stuff it, Bates," John growled, but the other man just snickered and retreated, taking his plate over to where the others were.

Dr. Beckett threw his hands up in disgust. "Fine, don't talk. Teach him to play cards or throw a knife. Give him something to do, but having sex with somebody like Dr. McKay is going to have repercussions that you won't expect."

"Like what?" John asked in a flat voice.

Dr. Beckett sighed. "John, for people like McKay and Carter, people stick around for longer than a one-off. It's not like it is out here, where a hand-job is just a hand-job."

John blinked. "Who says it's a one-off?" With that said, John beat a fast retreat toward the Puddlejumper.

John walked up the ramp with the tray, which he set down on a top bunk. Rodney wasn't in his bunk, but John could hear faint splashing noises coming from the tiny washroom in the rear of the vehicle. John busied himself with lowering a drop-down table midway between the front seats and the bunks. After setting the tray on the table and setting up a couple chairs he zipped shut the top and bottom bunk-bags then folded the bottom bunks into their "couch" positions, and locked them in place.

By the time he had finished, Rodney still hadn't come out of the washroom, though the splashing noises had stopped. John was starting to get a little worried--then Rodney exited the washroom, hair damp and face freshly shaved. The scientist flushed when he saw John, but his back straightened, and his chin lifted a bit. "Well then, breakfast first, or should we get it over with Major?" Rodney asked as he moved forward. He stopped less than a half-step away, shaking slightly.

"Breakfast first," John said. "We have a few hours before we need to head out again."

Rodney nodded sharply, and took a deep breath. "Do you want me to suck you off, or would a hand job for a hand job be fair?" The words all rushed together, as if they were fired out of a semi-automatic.

Sheppard tilted his head slightly. "Wasn't something that needed payment," he said, and sat down at the table. Rodney moved forward to sit across from him. "Wouldn't mind _reciprocation_," John said, pronouncing the word carefully.

Rodney flicked a glance upward, and started to load up his plate, and started to eat. "Yes well, that's what I'm offering then, reciprocation--you got me off, I'll get you off and--" Rodney faltered, flushing. "And we can forget about the entire episode." He started eating, quickly.

"Slow down," John said sharply. Rodney flinched and dropped the fork. "Don't want the food to make a return trip, do you?" John said in a more level voice.

"I think I know how to eat, Major," Rodney said in an aggravated voice.

"Yeah, but do you know that eating too fast after being starved'll make you puke?" John asked.

"I'd almost successfully managed to not think about the past few weeks for almost five minutes now, thank you for reminding me," Rodney snapped, and started eating again, more slowly this time.

"Well, at least you won't be cleaning up your puke," John said, and smirked at Rodney's glower.

"What? You're not sick, so you can clean up your own messes." John loaded up his own plate, and started eating, interspersing with sips of tea.

"How long will it take to get to the gate?" Rodney asked.

"About a week, with no trouble," John said reassuringly.

Rodney gave him a look. "Which has a infintesimal--that means very very small--chance of happening--there's always trouble."

John smirked. "Then there's a very very small--infintesimal--chance that the trouble will slow us down."

**TWO**

There was absolutely no way to segue into "so about the handjob I owe you?" from any point in the conversation, and his earlier attempt to be blunt (be a man about it) had fallen down some cultural divide that he didn't quite understand. The Major was solicitous and reassuring, warm and more than a little lascivious. The Major never actually touched Rodney all through breakfast, but then, he didn't have to. All Rodney could think of was the night before, Major Sheppard sliding in behind him on the bunk, the rough-smooth feel of his hands, of his mouth on Rodney's skin.

The conversation wandered aimlessly over topics related to travel, stargates and logistics, and Rodney realized after fifteen minutes of conversation that there was a surprisingly intelligent mind behind the slow drawling speech and hazel eyes. Rodney had the feeling that the Major was doing his best to distract him from having a meltdown of some sort--and he was annoyed to feel gratitude for the effort.

After breakfast, Dr. Zelenka made an appearance at the transporter hatch. "Teyla says there is time to practice--unless you are busy." Zelenka grinned at Rodney. "What she means is, is that he had better not be busy of course."

This seemed to inspire Sheppard to sigh and roll his eyes as he rose to his feet. "Tell her I'll be right out," he said with a smirk.

"Practice?" Rodney asked.

"Getting my ass kicked," Sheppard said. "Fighting with sticks."

Zelenka entered the transport, and started clearing the table. "I will help clean up," Zelenka said, an odd note of teasing in his voice, as if there was some sort of injoke involved. "Also, Dr. Carter has awakened, and is asking for you, Dr. McKay."

"Is she alright?" Rodney asked, and was surprised to find his question being echoed by the Major.

"I believe she is," Zelenka said. "A little disoriented, but that's to be expected.

Rodney only barely managed to avoid asking if anyone had offered to have sex with _Dr. Carter_. "Good, good, I should go speak with her then," he said instead. He managed a polite nod to the major. "Thank you for bringing me breakfast Major," he said, and escaped into the morning sunlight as fast as he could, which wasn't very given his own injuries.

* * *

Dr. Samantha Carter was awake and sitting propped up by pillows on the bunk, a break fast tray perched on her lap. The fingers of one hand were splinted, and her shoulder and ribs were taped, and her face, neck and arms were mottled by bruises. Rodney almost collapsed into a nearby folding chair. "I'm so sorry Doctor," Rodney said, voice shaking slightly. "I--" I didn't think, my fault, my fault.

Samantha's eyes crinkled with a smile. "If I'd known all I had to do to get you to apologize for something--"

"Yes well, you didn't need to take such drastic measures," Rodney said. His chest was hurting, and his voice was wobbling--he wasn't sure if it was from the run, or if the tightness in his chest was the start of a panic attack. "I can't even begin to say how much I regret what happened."

"You did the best you could," Samantha said, and Rodney hated how gentle her voice sounded. Obviously trying to calm him down. She lifted her bandaged hand. "This is Kavanagh's fault, Doctor," she said. "And when we take him back--"

"He's _dead_," McKay said flatly. "They didn't tell you? No, of course they didn't, or you'd know."

He stared blindly down at his hands, which were clenched into fists.

"How?" Samantha asked, predictably asking the one question that Rodney didn't want to even think about.

"I don't remember," Rodney said, which was true enough. "It was all a blur--the rescue, Kavanagh's death, everything." He only _wished_ it had been a blur.

The past few weeks stood out with apalling clarity. Starvation, torture, threats, pretending to go along with Kolya in exchange for Dr. Carter's life, secretly sabotaging his own work, Kavanagh's betrayal, _Sam's_ torture--he was shaking, he realized, breathing in hard fast gasps, almost hyperventilating. He was aware of Dr. Beckett with an arm around his shoulders, telling him to breathe except he couldn't because his chest _ached_, then there was a pain in his arm, and Rodney slid into black water, and everything went dark.

Rodney woke up with the transport in motion again, and his face pressed flat to someone's chest, with that same someone's hard on pressed against his. "You snore. And drool." The major's voice was quiet, and amused. calloused fingers brushed over his lips, a tickling touch that made Rodney's cock jerk. Without thinking about it, Rodney's mouth fell open a little more, and he caught the major's finger, biting down gently, which made the major's cock twitch, something Rodney could feel even through layers of cloth. Rodney flushed, embarrassed and incredibly arroused, two things that were starting to become synonymous with each other as far as Major Sheppard was concerned.

"And once again, you're in my bunk, Major," Rodney said after releasing Sheppard's finger. "So if I happen to drool on you in my sleep, it's your own fault." Rodney moved back, sitting on his heels. It wasn't the one that Rodney had woken up in that morning. This bunk was one of the top ones. The bottom bunks were still folded into their couch positions. Bates was sitting on one of them, legs crossed, sewing rips in a jacket. Ronon was at the table eating, and two patrol members Rodney didn't know by name were respectively, driving and watching for trouble.

"Actually, it's my bunk," the major pointed out, and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bunk. "Hungry?"

Rodney nodded. "Yes--no citrus though, I'm allergic."

"Darn, and I was going to get you some toast with lime marmalade," John said, and jumped down from the bunk. After rummaging around in the back, John came back with a canteen of what turned out to be moonshine, and a small plastic bag with ten or so balls of pemmican. He sat with his back resting against the side of the transport. "These are pretty good," the major said and popped one into his mouth, as if advertising their edibility.

"If they aren't, I'm sure the moonshine will kill the taste," Rodney said, and drank some in a fast gulp that burned a trail of fire all the way down his esophagus. He choked, and Sheppard slapped his back.

"Just sips, okay? Can't have you coughing up a lung, can we?" The hand that slapped his back reeled Rodney back toward the side of the transport, and he went along with it, head spinning a little from the drink which seemed to be much, much more potent than what he'd ever had in Atlantis.

Rodney nibbled at the pemmican, and sipped the moonshine. "No, no of course not," Rodney said. "So, why are you getting me drunk? I thought it was established that I'm ridiculously easy when it comes to sex."

Sheppard took the moonshine away, and took a swig before Rodney could even think to complain, then handed it back. "Not getting you drunk," he said. "Just giving you a little insulation."

"Why would I need insulation?" Rodney said, and took another drink.

The major wordlessly fished around the bunk, and came up with a thick notebook. He held it out to Rodney, who took it, staring blankly at the cover. "Jeannie's diary," Sheppard explained. "Think she'd want you to have it."

Rodney dropped the book on the bunk. He wanted to read it, he wanted just as strongly to pitch it out the nearest hatch. "Oh god," he said softly.

"Insulation," Sheppard said.

Rodney gulped down more moonshine. "She was majoring in biology, but she joined the security patrol instead--Dad was proud." Rodney snorted. "He would be." Rodney's breath hitched. "Total waste of brains." He tried to drink more, but Sheppard took the canteen away from him and capped it. "I was so angry with her," he said, voice shaking.

"So I've heard," the major said, and pulled Rodney closer. "She stopped being angry with you a long time ago."

Rodney was crying, but he could blame that on the moonshine, though he wasn't able to find an excuse for why Sheppard was loosening his clothes, stroking him, soothing him the way he'd done the night before. _Easing_ him, had been the way Sheppard had put it, touching him so intimately, teasing him, talking to him, stroking him off like it was just one more duty, as if sex were a kind of _sedative_, and release as good as psychotropic meds. Everything narrowed down to a single point, and Rodney realized he had no desire to be _sedated_.

Somehow he managed to twist around in Sheppard's arms, and some part of him that wasn't tipsy was distantly surprised by how easy it was, the way the major's eyes widened in surprise as Rodney pushed him against the bunk, and the wicked curve of his mouth before he opened to Rodney's first clumsy kiss, struggling, but not very hard--going along, for the moment anyway. Some saner part of Rodney's brain was amazed at how much could be conveyed without words--the rest didn't care as he kissed and was kissed by the mercenary.

Clothing seemed to vanish under Rodney's hands, warm skin flushing under his touch, and the major's hips grinding against his, rubbed off against each other as Sheppard deepened the kiss, hands stroking working their way down to massage Rodney's ass. "Reciprocation, Major," Rodney hissed in Sheppard's ear, and then moaned as the other man's mouth descended to his neck and planted a sucking kiss there.

"Fuck yeah," Sheppard whispered in Rodney's ear, and kissed him again. Sheppard kissed with his eyes open, and Rodney found himself keeping his eyes open, just so he could see the light shining in them. "Keep going, _just_ like that," the major said, and other dirtier things that might have made Rodney blush if he weren't past any kind of embarrasment, and thrust harder and faster until the major came with a soft groan, and much, much too quickly, flipped Rodney onto _his_ back, spread him wide, and sucked him down to the root.

Rodney cried out, and didn't care who heard, didn't care who saw, just thrust into that tight, wet heat until he came. He lay there, staring at the ceiling of the transport, breathing hard, amazed by how everything seemed so blurry and sharp at the same time. Sheppard crawled up his body, and covered him. "Well, that was a surprise," the major murmured in Rodney's ear.

Rodney glared. "I'm damned tired of being _fucked_ with, Major," he said with as much dignity as he could muster. "In _all_ senses of the word. If I need to be 'eased' I'll let you know."

Sheppard's smile was warm and crooked, and made Rodney's heart skip a beat. "Wasn't meaning to fuck with your head, Doctor." The major moved so that he was lying beside Rodney, instead of on top. "You want to leave, I can help you set up a bunk," the Major said.

"That won't be necessary, Major," Rodney said, voice unsteady to his ears. "I believe I made my point."

Sheppard's smile edged into a smirk. "I believe you did, give me some time, and I can come up with a rebuttal."

* * *

For the next three days, aside from driver changes, the transports moved non-stop. Rodney found himself slipping into an almost comfortable routine of arguing/working with Zelenka, watching some of the most boring terrain ever through the tiny portholes of the transport and reading his sister's diary. The last was a strange kind of penance, making up for years of anger and disappointment by finding out about his sister's life.

The entries of her diary contained what appeared to be "rough drafts" of her official log reports of weather conditions, transport breakdowns, and contacts with various communities, interspersed with anecdotes, exasperated rants about team members and bad contacts with various communities. Also included were essays and reports about encounters with the local wildlife or the possible medicinal properties of some mutated plant. Many of the entries were letters addressed to him--letters she'd never send, possibly never would have sent--and reading those hurt the most. John had been right, Jeannie had forgiven him the rift he'd created between them--but it seemed to him that that she'd thought that he'd never be able to forgive her.

That was a very depressing thought.

It was very strange, learning about John--about the entire team--from Jeannie's diary, strangely intimate and unsettling. Rodney had spent his entire life in a very small community where there were no secrets, and very little privacy--learning so much about complete strangers felt oddly indecent. (He supposed it went a long way toward explaining why he found the psych and the anthro sciences to be little better than gossip mongers.) Jeannie had thought of John as a kind of brother surrogate--when she wasn't damning him as a idiot.

_ **"I can't ** _ **believe** _ ** that man. How can someone so smart be so damned stupid--and dammit, he ** _ **is** _ ** smart enough to know better Rodney. You've never seen someone figure things out so quickly, give him the basics of just about anything, and he'll figure it out, and ** _ **understand** _ ** what you've just told him--though his explanations are usually less than precise. Zelenka's been tutoring him in math, Teyla (who has a surprisingly strong grasp of diplomacy and negotiation given her background, which isn't too disimilar from John's really) has been beating something resembling ** _ **communication and negotiation skills** _ ** into him--but he's ** _ **still** _ ** a damned idiot! I ** _ **warned ** _ **him that something was up, that something was going on beyond what Chaya was telling him, but would he listen? No, of course not. Never mind that Chaya had absolutely ** _ **no ** _ **intention of opening up talks between her enclave and Atlantis. Never mind that she ** _ **lied ** _ **to us about the power source the enclave was using, lied about herself, and never mind that she was a telepath, and oh look, she can ** _ **kill people with her brain. ** _ **Yes, I'm still bitter." ** _

Rodney snorted and kept reading. Jeannie had been very fond of a former member of the team named Ford, and had nursed something like a crush on Teyla, and spoke in matter of fact tones of "seeking comfort" with both Teyla and Zelenka after Ford's disappearance following a Wraith attack--which was a bit more than he really wanted to know. Granted, Zelenka was attractive in a understated way, and Teyla was gorgeous--but you didn't want to think of your sister as having intimate relations with--anyone, really. Her time out in the field had changed her--he couldn't imagine the Jeannie he'd known writing so casually about sex, or describing in clipped terms exactly what John had done to a captive Wraith during an interrogation, with absolutely no sign of censure for his actions. At the same time, this was Jeannie's handwriting, her sense of humor and her wit, transformed and changed by her experiences into someone who almost seemed like a stranger.

Rodney rubbed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose as he concentrated on not embarrasing himself. A shadow fell across the book, and Rodney looked up to see Sheppard holding out what smelled like a cup of hot ersatz chocolate. Rodney took it and sipped carefully, nodding his thanks. The major seemed to take this as an invitation and settled in beside Rodney. He was very aware of the heat of Sheppard's body, and found himself focussed on the shape of Sheppard's mouth, the way his body was angled, close but not touching, his intent, intense gaze that was nearly physical. "You're quiet," John said.

"I was reading," Rodney said.

"So I see," John said, glancing down at the diary. "She loved you, you know. You're the only thing Jeannie ever really talked about. Every time she told a story or related any kind of memory, you were always there. This...feud between you was the only regret she had."

Rodney drew a ragged breath and closed his eyes. "Thank you, I was only mildly depressed, now I feel like cutting my throat with your Bowie knife."

John shrugged, casually. "If I thought you'd do that, I'd never have given you the diary in the first place, no matter what Teyla said."

"Your faith in my mental stability is touching," Rodney said dryly. His hands, nervous, fidgeted over the diary he held, rubbing the spine, turning it this way and that. "How--I know how she saw you and your team, how did you see her?"

"She was brave, a little tender hearted, but then so are most of you Atlanteans. Stubborn, sharp tongued if you pissed her off, determined. She was a friend--family," John said after a few moments of thought. "We--I--miss her."

"Thank you," Rodney said, then in a softer voice. "I'm glad she had friends, I'm glad you were her friend." He wondered if the major was so--solicitous--of him because of some obligation to Jeannie's memory--but didn't ask. If at all possible Rodney preferred to think that Sheppard's continued interest was at worst a desire to keep Rodney from flying apart, or at best some strange attraction for pudgy men rapidly approaching middle age.

"Even though I'm an outsider?" John asked with a smirk.

Rodney snorted. "I think you're fishing for compliments now, Major. You and your team--and the Emmagan--are now vital members of the community. You're no more an outsider than I am." No need to mention that Sheppard's anomalous ability to get the 'gates and other Old World technology to function reliably made him almost more a part of Atlantis than Rodney with his artificial gene and having lived there all of his life.

"Maybe I am," Sheppard said, and smiled. It was too shy to be a smirk, and too knowing to not be one.

"Well, you'll just have to earn them the hard way, like everyone else," Rodney said, and ignored the leer Sheppard flashed his way. Instead, he bridged the slight gap between them, and pretended he didn't notice he was being watched as he kissed the leer off Sheppard's face. Sheppard's hands came up, and slid over Rodney's back, and squeezed his ass. Rodney gasped, and in retaliation, nipped John's bottom lip, before working his way down to a area that Rodney knew from previous experience was particularly sensitive. It was John's turn to gasp, his hips bucking slightly.

"Fuck," John said, head falling back to hit the side of the transport. "McKay--"

"Yes, but not in broad daylight Major, in plain view of the crew, I have some self respect left," Rodney said, even as he flushed slightly at the laughter coming from the front of the transport. It was Bates, Sora and Zelenka, not even pretending they weren't watching any more. Rodney kissed Sheppard again to keep him from coming back with a comment of his own. Sheppard laughed and squirmed, not making more than a token effort to take back lost ground.

* * *

They stopped for the night, setting up camp near some Old World ruins. According to the transport sensors the background radiation was low enough to allow some exploration in the morning--brief, quick exploration because while there had been no signs of pursuit, John wasn't willing to take the risk of something happening. Rodney for his part was more concerned about the radiation than possible ambushes--after all, John had lived in high rad areas all of his life and couldn't be expected to have a rational sense of caution for lower but still dangerous rad levels. For some reason, this assessment had annoyed John, and Rodney found himself exiled from Puddlejumper One.

Carson was sitting by one of the campfires, brewing a pot of coffee. He looked up as Rodney approached and smiled. "Rodney? I've been wanting to speak with you," Carson said as he handed Rodney a cup.

Rodney felt a brief twinge of trepidition at Carson's words. That particular phrase in that particular tone seldom indicated anything good, in Rodney's experience. "What about?" he asked as he sat down by the fire.

Carson coughed, and looked uncomfortable. "Truthfully, about you. You've been through a great deal, and I have some concerns."

"Concerns," Rodney echoed. "About what, exactly? Right now, I have concerns that we're increasing our chances of inevitably getting cancer by at least three percent."

"You've been quiet, lately," Carson explained. "Not quite yourself--and it's a sad thing that I'm worried because you're not complaining about something."

Rodney snorted. "The beds are lumpy, the inertial dampeners need to be tweaked,and I'm feeling slightly nauseous." Rodney paused for effect. "From a bottle of citrus based perfume that was broken during the nightly orgy." He snickered as Carson blushed bright red and choked on his coffee, spraying the front of his shirt and the fire. "--In the next bunk, Carson. I could complain some more," Rodney said, trying look innocent.

"That," Carson wheezed. "Won't be necessary."

"Any other concerns?" Rodney asked. Members of the crew were looking in their direction. Rodney smiled at them. "I'm not the one confined to a bed," Rodney said in a more quiet tone. He wondered if Carson would think it was a sign of a good or bad mental health if he said. I wish it was me. Dr. Carter had told him--ordered him--to not try to play hero. The Genii had mocked him for giving in after only a few beatings, and later, for not being able to help Dr. Carter when they--

"I don't need you to protect me, McKay."

"Let's pretend my fragile ego requires me to believe you do, and I can."

Carson was giving him a concerned look. "Rodney?" he asked quietly.

Rodney hastily wiped his eyes, which were watering. "I'm fine," he said gruffly. "Just had a moment."

"Aye? And how often have you been having 'moments'?" Carson asked with a frown.

Rodney shrugged, and looked down at his cup. "The psychs are going to have a field day when they get a hold of me, let's put it that way."

"Rodney, don't make light of this," Carson said.

"Believe me, I'm not," Rodney said. "I'll talk to the psychs, but this isn't something I want to talk about."

"Even as a friend?" Carson asked looking genuinely hurt.

"Right now, you're too close," Rodney said. "And while my regard for medical doctors is only slightly higher than my regard for psychs--I'd rather talk to Dr. Heightmeyer."

After a moment of thought, Carson nodded "All right then, I think I can understand that." He gave his shirt a rueful look and poured himself another cup of coffee. "Are you going to be talking about the Major to Heightmeyer?"'

It was Rodney's turn to choke. "I might, I might talk about you to Heightmeyer," Rodney said when he recovered. He blinked owlishly at Carson. "Why?"

"You've been through a lot, Rodney," Carson said after a few moments. "I've all the respect in the world for the Major, believe me--but his people don't--well they--" Carson floundered, flushing again.

"You're afraid that I, with my admittedly total lack of social skills will fall into some cultural divide, am I right?" Rodney asked. He wasn't sure if he was more amused or irritated by the thought.

"I wouldn't say it quite that way," Carson said hesitantly. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

Rodney blinked. "I'm not sure whether to be insulted or touched by that. I realize that I may not act like it, but I am an adult."

Carson gave him a look. "Katie Brown."

"That was different," Rodney protested. "And unfair, the Major is nothing like Dr. Brown--who I have a excellent working relationship with by the way."

"She's a botanist. You work in different buildings," Carson said.

"As I said, an excellent working relationship," Rodney said.

Carson gave him an exasperated look. "Rodney."

"Carson," Rodney echoed. In a more serious tone, "He's helping me. Really."

"Even if he isn't...serious?" Carson asked, looking worried and tired somehow.

"He is," Rodney said. "Just not the same way, or for the same reason." He tried to make a joke out of it, but the joke fell a little flat. "Also, have you seen him? Who could say no?"

Carson sighed. "Please, just be careful," he said.

"When have you known me to not be careful?" Rodney replied.

They spoke some more, retreating to other, safer subjects before the smells of cooking coming from the cook fire lured both Rodney and Carson to the opposite end of the camp. Their places were taken by members of the crew loaded down with plates of food. John appeared to be in charge of a pot of something that was probably soup, stirring as he talked with Dr. Carter who was seated in a camp chair by the cook fire. Rodney couldn't help but feel a twitch of jealousy at the way John was smiling at her, or the way she was smiling back. Rodney thought briefly of pointing out--loudly--that Dr. Carter was married, but then John turned that blinding smile in his direction, and something in his head short circuited, and he was smiling back. "I hope that's edible Major, not all of us have cast iron stomachs."

"That's McKay for 'it smells wonderful, I'll have seconds,'" Dr. Carter said with a slight smile.

John ladled some of the soup into a bowl--it was a thick stewish bean soup with chunks of what were probably ham hocks in it--and handed it to Rodney. "I think I'm learning the language," John said with a smirk.

Rodney huffed, but accepted the bowl. "I'm sure I have no idea of what you're talking about," he asserted, and started to eat.

**THREE**

"What do you see in McKay?" Ronon asked. McKay was on the other side of the fire, arguing with Dr. Carter about something that went right over John's head.

"You jealous?" John asked with a smirk.

Ronon snorted. "What do I have to be jealous of?"

"Oh, I don't know, he's quite the conversationalist," John said. Another snort from Ronon. "He's got a nice ass--a little flabby, but I think I can whip him into shape."

"Not your crew, Sheppard," Ronon said, and bared his teeth in a lupine smile.

"So?" John's gaze skittered back to McKay, and settled on the ass in question. "He's not paired off that I know of." It came out more defensive than he'd intended, than he'd wanted to sound.

Ronon's grin went from lupine to shit-eating.

Ronon brushed a hand down John's arm and leaned in close, mouth slanting toward Sheppard's ear. Heat stirred in John at the casual, seductive touch, and made him flush. Made him want to lean into Ronon as much as it made him (just now) want to gut punch the bastard. "Courting, Sheppard?" He said it loud enough to be heard, and McKay stared back at the both of them, flushing red.

John growled and shook free. "Swear-to-God, Ronon, one dark night I'm gonna sneak up on you and snatch you bald." He looked to Rodney, meaning to reassure him, but the man was heading off at a fast walk. John spared another growl for Ronon (who was smiling like this was the _best _damn entertainment since the bullfight in Neumex that resulted in the mutie bull stomping the matador, the picadors and good two dozen bystanders into red mush) before heading off after Rodney.

He caught Rodney up, and grabbed an arm. Rodney tried to turn against John's thumb to break the hold, but wasn't successful. "McKay, listen, Ronon's just bein'--" John said, and dodged the wind-milling punch Rodney threw at him with his free arm.

"Let go of me, Major," Rodney said. "Why don't you go whip that _Neanderthal's _ass into shape?"

"Because he can kick mine," John said. Tetchy 'Lanteans would be the death of him, he knew it. "It was just talk McKay, wasn't meant to embarrass you." McKay wasn't fighting him, just holding himself stiff, chin tilting up, angry and defiant.

"I don't need to be trained Major, even if I'm not as-as experienced," Rodney said, flushing. "And I'm certainly not-not your _significant other." _

John felt a little twist in his stomach at that, but ignored it. He grinned tightly. "Wouldn't train you. I like you all sweet and_ virginal_." He laughed at Rodney's splutter of outrage. "Teasing," John said, and let McKay go.

"Very funny," Rodney said. "Except for the part where I'm being made a fool of."

"He wasn't making a fool of you McKay," John pointed out. He also didn't say, _and I wasn't, either._

_"Because _of me," Rodney said. "I realize I'm no prize, but I'd rather not have it rubbed in my _face_."

"Why'd you walk off then? I've seen you're not shy about giving someone a piece of your mind."

Rodney snorted. "Which would have been followed by getting stuffed head first down one of the transport toilets I'm sure."

John rolled his eyes. "Just because you were slanging each other?"

"Yes, just because we were 'slanging each other'," Rodney said. "I'd rather err on the side of caution than offend someone who can break me in _half_."

"The only thing that's gonna offend him, McKay, is acting like he's someone who can break you in half," John said heatedly. "He don't deserve it."

Rodney seemed to deflate slightly. "I--this isn't really something I'm used to." He waved his hands, like maybe he was trying to catch the words and put them in order. "You have a prior relationship--several of them if half of what I've overheard your team talking about is true, never mind the things I've _seen_ and really wish I hadn't--and he was touching you, and so close, and he said courting, and you looked embarrassed, and I felt utterly ridiculous."

"That bother you?" John asked. He knew it'd bothered Dr. Beckett, and even understood a little _why_ it had bothered the doctor, from talking to Zelenka. Somehow, he'd figured from the way Jeannie and slipped into her relationships with Teyla, Aiden and Radek that Rodney would pretty much be the same way--though that didn't appear to be the case. "We don't go outside the team, and none of us have diseases," he pointed out, in case that helped. That got him a snort of laughter and a slight, lopsided smile.

"Oddly enough, that's not a major concern," Rodney said. "I'm more concerned about--" He made a frustrated gesture. "This. Whatever this is. I'm not good with people--I don't want to ruin anything."

"Got nothing to worry about, McKay," John said, and on impulse, tapped Rodney's shoulder with his open palm, the way he might have a member of his crew. "Come back with me to the fire? Or," John gave Puddlejumper one a meaningful look, and quirked his eyebrows at Rodney.

Rodney took his meaning immediately, blushing slightly. Then he seemed to gather himself together, and a determined look gleamed in his eyes. He stepped forward, hooked his hand around the back of John's neck and pulled him down for a kiss. For a moment John was startled stiff--and just as quickly relaxed, wrapping his arms around McKay and giving as good as he got. There were a few wolf whistles fireward, but John didn't care. He came up and grinned at McKay. "So, you want to go back to the fire?" He asked innocently.

"Yes, of course, because I want to neck with the leader of the rescue mission in front of my childhood _crush_," Rodney rolled his eyes and stalked off in the direction of the transport.

John followed after, pretending he couldn't see Ronon's smirk, the grins of the rest of his team, and the banjaxed looks of the Lanteans. You'd think that they'd never seen a man get kissed before. "Is that why he's so protective?" John asked once inside.

Rodney gave him a befuddled look. "Is that why _who _is so protective?"

"Beckett? You had a crush on him, and that's why he's so protective." John was mostly teasing, but it _would _explain the doctor's attitude, if there had been something between him and Rodney at some point in time.

Or maybe not, if the look on Rodney's face was any indication. "Carson?!" Rodney said. "He's a friend but I've never been attracted--" He sputtered like a dying engine. "Carter, _Dr. _Carter, she was my crush." Rodney sat down, frowning. "My completely unreturned, unrequited crush."

"Ah." John settled down next to Rodney, who leaned against him, shoulders touching. He grinned. "Maybe Beckett's the one with a crush?"

Rodney glared. "Are you a fifteen year old girl by any chance Major?"

John leered. "I think you know I'm not, McKay."

"Given the direction this conversation has turned, I have my doubts," McKay grumbled. He turned sideways in the seat, one foot on the floor for balance, and kissed John.

McKay's eyes fluttered shut when he did that, something John found oddly endearing, he knew very few people who actually closed their eyes when they kissed. Jeannie had been one. John pushed that random thought out of his head, and kissed back. His hand cradled the back of McKay's head, and his free arm curled around McKay's waist. Rodney groaned when John thrust against him, and hung on tight, riding, then grinding in return. John kissed, hungry and sweet, sensitive skin growing more sensitive until even the lightest touch felt like lightning under the skin.

John lifted his hips as McKay tugged his pants down, and John returned the favor, and wrapped his hand around McKay's cock. McKay shuddered, hips jerking reflexively. "Oh. Oh, fuck," McKay panted, breath hot and wet against John's neck.

"I want you to," John said into Rodney's ear, and nipped the lobe, making Rodney shiver. "C'mon, McKay, fuck me."

"Oh god yes--wait. Where--there's no--" McKay babbled, and tried to move back, looking around the cabin of the transport, but John tightened his grip around McKay's waist.

"My pocket," John said, and got a laugh in response.

"Why am I not surprised?" McKay said breathlessly, and fished around in John's pockets (grumbling that John had failed to specify which pocket the whole time) and came up with the tube of slick.

Rodney's hands were shaking as he fumbled off the cap. He almost emptied out the tube by accident. Rodney stared at the mess with such a look of panic that John had to bite his tongue to keep from asking if Rodney'd ever done this before. Or laughing. "C'mon, McKay," he said instead, and squirmed.

That seemed to break Rodney out of his daze, he looked up, sharp and a little exasperated. "Yes, yes, I'm trying." He dropped the tube, slicked himself, then slid a still slippery finger into John, slow and careful. Too slow, and too careful, John squirmed some more, Iwanting/I more, which made McKay stop immediately and glare. "Stop that," he snapped, and John subsided. McKay kept up the slow and careful stretching until John trembled, half out of his mind with frustration, trying to keep still, because every time he moved, McKay would stop and wait.

Finally, when it felt like John was going to fall completely apart, Rodney tugged John's legs up, and slid inside. John arched and wasn't able to swallow the shout that burst out of him. Rodney's eyes were wide and blue, his face flushed, his smile more than a little smug as he began to thrust, hard and fast and just about perfect. John tried, but he couldn't keep quiet, and Rodney didn't seem to want him to, which made it just that little bit easier to gasp, groan and beg for more. Rodney came first, and John followed after, like Rodney had just pulled the orgasm out of him, leaving him shaking and a little dazed. "Holy fuck McKay," John said as they lay on the seat, tangled together and limp.

"Virginal my ass," McKay muttered, and nuzzled at John's neck. "Bed now, before we fall asleep like this." He untangled himself, stood, and with surprising strength, hauled John onto his feet, and walked them both to the nearest bunk. They tumbled into bed, and John was asleep almost before he hit the pillow.

* * *

John woke up the next morning, missing the warm weight of Rodney's body tangled up with his. John was usually the first to wake up, and even when Rodney woke first, he always managed to wake up John as well. This time though, Rodney had gotten himself up without John being aware of it, and John wasn't sure of what to think of that.

"He's my taskmaster, that don't mean I can't yank his chain," Ronon was saying, apparently in response to some question.

John rolled onto his side, and held still, letting his eyes open a crack. Rodney looked rough and half asleep still, hands wrapped around his mug as he listened to Ronon. "How'd you meet him?" McKay asked. "Or should I not ask that?"

"No." Ronon was quiet for a while, watching McKay before speaking again. "What do you know about the Wraith?"

"The theory is, they were some kind of super-soldier experiment from before the war, but no one's found any hard evidence of that. Other theories include aliens from outer space and freak leaps in in evolution, but the research behind those theories appear to involve peyote," McKay said. "They have some kind of hive mind, they're stronger than humans or most of the mutant or gene-altered strains and they're cannibals."

"Sometimes, they take slaves," Ronon said. "Not always, but sometimes. They last longer than their usual prisoners, but not much longer. They make you run, and hunt you down, and if they catch you, they--don't kill you."

"You were a slave?"

Ronon nodded. "Seven years."

"Did Sheppard--rescue you?" Rodney asked.

Ronon smiled, a brief flash of uneven teeth. "No. I rescued him."

John decided it was past time to stop playing 'possum. "Well, that's one way of looking at it," he said, and slid out of the bunk. "Of course, from my end of things, it looked more like you were trying to_ kill_ me."

Ronon smirked. "Look alive to me, Sheppard."

"Only just barely," John said, and slid into the seat next to McKay.

The look on Ronon's face was wicked. "McKay wear you out, Sheppard?"

Rodney's ears pinked, but he seemed to be taking last night's advice because he said, "yes, obviously. And no, I don't do demonstrations." He blushed redder when Ronon laughed, but tilted his chin up, mouth curling into a lopsided smile.

John leaned over. "I'm well rested now," he said in a low voice, and kissed McKay.

They were skirting the edge of a large ruin, less than twelve hours from the 'gate when Teyla's voice crackled over the radio. "John, ambush ahead."

John clicked on his mic. "How much time?" Rodney, who'd been sitting shotgun while John drove had gone white.

"Five minutes," Teyla said shortly.

"Ronon, Radek," John said, keeping his voice level, for Rodney's benefit.

"On it," Ronon said, and started folding up tables and seats, while Radek disappeared into the back.

"Rodney, I'm going to need you to head into the back. Help Zelenka and Ronon. Bates, you're shotgun."

Despite the way his hands were shaking, Rodney unbuckled himself and let Bates move into the seat. Rodney hovered for a moment. "I don't have to tell you to be careful, do I?"

John grinned. "No, you don't. Get back there, McKay." McKay nodded and made his way to the back. _Just hope I can keep my word_he thought as the first familiar, terrible screams tore through the air.

The story ran in the midlands and the south that Wraith bikes weren't powered by diesel or corn alcohol or even hydrogen but by the souls of their victims. The proof-positive was the sound their engines made, a ripping shriek that rattled the eardrums and froze the blood. Teyla said the sound wasn't a sound at all, but a hallucination the Wraith planted in your mind, along with all the other mojo they did. Knowing the reason for why the sound made otherwise tough bastards nearly piss their pants didn't stop the fear that bolted through him.

"I count ten bikes and a katyusha, John," Teyla said, her voice tinny over the transport's com.

"There'll be more in the grass," Ronon said.

"Joy."

The bikers hit Teyla's transport first, splitting into two groups, guns blazing. Sora and Teyla returned fire, fore, aft, and turret, backed up by Zelenka and Bates. One of the bikes was blown in half, and another skidded into a third bike in an attempt to dodge the wreck. A rattling hail of bullets strafed John's transport, and tires fore and aft blew out.

A second explosion rocked the forward transport as the katyusha got close enough to join the firefight. John could hear Teyla swearing over the com as she stomped on the brakes. John swerved and braked to a stop beside Teyla's transport.

"We have missiles too, motherfucker!" Sora shrieked over the com, and fired two off at the katyusha. One was a direct hit, slamming into the modified and heavily armored truck's windshield, but the other went wide, slamming into the cracked and weathered asphalt. The gunner in the back was thrown from the vehicle like a doll, landing in a broken heap.

"Way to tell them, Sora," Bates said. "Teyla, damages?"

"We are fine Bates, but it is not over yet." As if to punctuate Teyla's words, the grinning face of a dirt smeared Wraith popped over the hood of John's transport. He held an ax that he bashed against the transport's windshield. He could hear Zelenka swearing in the turret, and a sudden burst of gunfire. John smacked the zat, and the Wraith convulsed and rolled off the hood as electricity arced through his body. There were more screams as the zat took out more of the would be boarders.

"We lost two tires," Sora said. "Pinhole damage to the windshield, no one hit."

"John," Rodney said, voice terrified. "John, Radek's hurt!"

Ronon disappeared into the back. John heard the low rumble of Ronon's voice, and the faster, lighter tone of McKay's, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He couldn't get out of the seat, he didn't dare, no matter how much he wanted to get back there, and leave Bates to do the driving. "Teyla, you hear that?" He said, trying to keep his voice level.

"I hear, take the lead, John. The surviving Wraith have fled."

John revved the engine, and the transport lurched into motion. Faster, faster, faster, and it was still too damned slow.

Somewhere between the gate and the transport bay, McKay up and disappeared. John didn't notice at first, his head too full of gray fog, med-speak and worry for Radek. McKay got slotted away in John's head as _safe, unhurt, check on later._ Then later came, and his team didn't know where the hell Rodney had gone off to, all of them claiming that he must have been with someone else.

After John tore a strip or two off his people, he hunted down a med, who pointed him to another med who looked like she wanted to call the sec patrol, but instead got him Dr. Beckett. "Where is he?" He might have said it a little more forcefully than he intended, because Beckett flinched.

"Rodney is in the psych eval section," he said, and took a step backward when John glared. "Standard procedure," he said quickly. "Rodney's never been through this kind of trauma before--they debriefed him and Carter, and now he's resting."

"I don't like it when one of mine gets disappeared on me, doctor. Something like that pisses me _right_ off in fact," John growled. "Disappearing people might be standard procedure for you, but I won't put up with it."

"One of yours," Beckett said blankly. "John, forgive the personal question, but what do you _mean_ by that?"

John stared. "What the hell do you _think _it means?"

"I think he's asking if your intentions are honorable, dear," Vala Mal Doran said in passing. She was half in, half out of uniform, and smiling brightly, with an exasperated/befuddled Dr. Jackson in pursuit.

_"Vala," _Dr. Jackson protested.

_"Daniel," _Vala mocked in the same tone, and glided off, Jackson scolding.

John watched them, briefly distracted, then glared at Beckett. "He's one of mine. He gets along with the crew, an' they like him. He's tougher than he looks, keeps his head even if he does bitch like an old man and he _fits_. That answer your question?"

Beckett flushed, and nodded. "I believe I do, Major. Please come with me."

John found Rodney curled up asleep in a overstuffed recliner in one of the private "resting rooms" in the psych eval wing. There was a cat sprawled in his lap with a collar with the words "therapy animal" printed on it. Like the one resting room John remembered being kept in directly after Jeannie's death, it was lit with what looked like natural light from a window that was actually a hologram, and it looked like an ordinary bedroom, with an unusually thick and springy carpet.

John knelt down, and skritched behind the cat's ears. The movement woke McKay, who blinked sleepily at him. John swallowed. "They gave me a puppy," he said lightly. Their hands met and tangled, and the cat commented loudly, and slid out of McKay's lap when John leaned in.

"I hope that's not a euphemism, major," McKay said, voice a little slurred with sleep and what John suspected were the really good sedatives. "Is--is Radek okay?"

John smiled so hard he thought his face would break. "Yeah. You and Ronon patched him up good. It was a real puppy. Cute little Rottie mix."

McKay blinked. "I'm not tracking--oh. Oh, a therapy animal, and Radek's okay. That's good."

"Not so much. See, Radek's all right, but then I turn around and I can't find you," John said.

"Well I can hardly apologize for having a melt down, so don't expect me too," Rodney said with a shadow of his usual tartness.

"Wouldn't dream of it," John said, still smiling. Somehow, he thought everything was going to be just fine.

* * *

**Don't Miss Atlantis: Crash and Burn on shelves October 31st 2006!**

**Other titles in the Atlantis 2505 series:**

_ **Rising** _

_ **Valley of Shadows** _

_ **Road to Hell** _

_ **Good Intentions** _

_ **Wormwood** _

_ **Kolya's Redoubt** _


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